


opening partly open locks

by saddestboner



Series: Tumblr Prompts [28]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Drabble, Gen, M/M, Not Beta Read, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 19:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16646243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddestboner/pseuds/saddestboner
Summary: Ian knows he should try to stop him.





	opening partly open locks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izzetboilerworks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzetboilerworks/gifts).



> Originally posted [here](https://saddestboner.tumblr.com/post/180193949516/iansalty-and-if-i-should-come-to-be).
> 
> Title from "Without You," by Junip.

Ian knows he should try to stop him. Maybe get up off the end of the bed and grab him by the wrist. Or stand in the doorway and block his escape. 

He’s angry. He’ll cool down, later, like he always does. They’ll fall back into bed, like they always do, and then they won’t talk about any of it: the drinking, the arguing, Salty’s empty suitcase sitting near Ian’s feet. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

Ian should get up and slide his hands into Salty’s curls and pull him closer. He should kiss him and ask him not to leave. He should beg Salty’s forgiveness. Like he always does. 

Salty grabs a pile of his clothes out of the dresser and dumps the in the suitcase sitting by Ian’s feet.

Ian watches as he dumps in more clothes. 

Finally, Salty stops tossing clothes into the suitcase. Looks at Ian and cocks his head, a curious expression on his face. Like he doesn’t quite recognize Ian anymore.

Salty crosses his arms over his chest. “Well?” he drawls, drawing the word— _weeeeeeeeell_ —out into impossible lengths.

“Well?” Ian echoes.

“Ain’t ya gonna say anything?” he asks. “Ain’t ya gonna try and stop me leavin’?”

Ian scrubs at his jaw. The five o’clock—more like ten o’clock—stubble scrapes his palm. “I…” He falters.

Salty waits. The seconds tick away on the grandfather clock sitting in the hall.

Ian sighs. “You already left a while ago, didn’t you?” he says, forcing himself to look into Salty’s big dumb eyes. They’re way too shiny in the dim light. “Might as well leave all the way, huh?”

Salty thins his lips and gives Ian a curt nod, then finishes emptying his drawers, working methodically. Ploddingly.

Ian closes his eyes and presses his fingers against his temple to stave off a headache that threatens to overrun him. 

Salty was already halfway gone. Might as well cut the cord completely and let him go free. 

Ian gets up and heads over to the bar, where he mixes himself a stiff drink and tosses it back in one gulp. When his eyes refocus, after he wipes away the tears, he hears the distant clicking of the front door and realizes he’s the only one there.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. **If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.**


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